English

SCENE III. A Cell in the Nunnery. MARIA discovered asleep on a straw pallet. She starts suddenly from her sleep with a little cry, half rises and remains seated on her pallet.

MARIA.
Oh, that wild dream! My weary bones still ache
With the fierce pain; they wrenched me limb from limb.
Thou hadst full cause, my father. But thou, Juan,
What was my sin to thee, save too much love?
Oh, would to God my back were crooked with age,
My smooth cheek seamed with wrinkles, my bright hair
Hoary with years, and my quick blood impeded

SCENE II.

Palermo. A Nunnery. Enter ABBESS, followed by a Lay-Sister.

ABBESS.
Is the poor creature roused?

LAY-SISTER.
Nay, she still sleeps.
'T would break your pious heart to see her, mother.
She begged our meanest cell, though 't is past doubt
She has been bred to delicate luxury.
I deemed her spent, had not the soft breast heaved
As gently as a babe's and even in dreams
Two crystal drops oozed from her swollen lids,
And trickled down her cheeks. Her grief sleeps not,

ACT V.

SCENE I. A Room in DON TOMMASO'S House. ANNICCA discovered, attired in mourning. Enter DON TOMMASO.

DON TOMMASO.
If he still live, now shall we hear of him.
The news I learn will lure him from his covert,
Where'er it lie, to pardon or avenge.

ANNICCA (eagerly).
What news? What cheer, Tommaso?

DON TOMMASO.
Meagre cheer,
But tidings that break through our slow suspense,
Like the first thunder-clap in sultry air.
Don John sets sail from Sicily, to wed

SCENE VI. RIBERA'S Room. RIBERA discovered sitting on the couch. He looks old and haggard, but has regained his natural bearing and expression. Enter ANNICCA. She hastens towards him, and kneels beside the couch, kissing him affectionately.

ANNICCA.
Father, you called me?

RIBERA.
Aye, to bid good-night.
Why do you kiss me? To betray to-morrow?

ANNICCA.
Dear father, you are better; you have slept
Are you not rested?

RIBERA.
Child, I was not weary.

Scene V. Night. A Room in RIBERA'S House.
ANNICCA seated alone, in an attitude of
extreme weariness and despondency.

ANNICCA.
His heavy sleep still lasts. Despite the words
Of the physician, I can cast not off
That ghastly fear. Albeit he owned no drugs,
This deathlike slumber, this deep breathing slow,
His livid pallor makes me dread each moment
His weary pulse will cease. This is the end,
And from the first I knew it. The worst evil
My warning tongue had wrought were joy to this.

SCENE IV. A street. Enter LORENZO and a GENTLEMAN, meeting. They salute, and LORENZO is about to pass on.

LORENZO.
Good-morning, sir.

GENTLEMAN.
Hail and farewell so soon,
Friend dreamer? I will lay a goodly sum
The news that flies like fire from tongue to tongue
Hath not yet warmed thine ear.

LORENZO.
What's that? I lay
A sum as fair thy news is some dry tale
Of courtly gossip, touching me as nigh
As the dissensions of the antipodes.

GENTLEMAN.

SCENE III.

Morning. The studio. Enter RIBERA.

RIBERA.
How laughingly the clear sun shines to-day
On storm-drenched green, and cool, far-glittering seas!
When she comes in to greet me, she will blush
For last night's terrors. How she crouched and shuddered
At the mere thought of the wild war without!
Poor, clinging women's souls, what need is theirs
Of our protecting love! Yet even on me
The shadow of the storm-cloud seemed to breed.
Through my vexed sleep I heard the thunder roll;

SCENE II. RIBERA'S garden. Half the sky illuminated by an over-clouded moon, the rest obscured by an approaching storm. Occasional thunder and lightning. On on side of the stage a summer-house open to the audience, on the other side the exterior of the dwelling. DON JOHN discovered waiting near the house. The door opens, and enter MARIA.

DON JOHN (springing forward and embracing her).
At last! at last!

MARIA.
Juan, beware! My father's fears,
I cannot guess by whom or what, are roused.
[She extends her arms gropingly to embrace him.]

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Night. RIBERA'S bedroom. RIBERA discovered in his dressing-gown, seated reading beside a table, with a light upon it. Enter from an open door at the back of the stage, MARIA. She stands irresolute for a moment on the threshold behind her father, watching him, passes her hand rapidly over her brow and eyes, and then knocks.

MARIA.
May I come in, dear father?

RIBERA (putting down his book and looking at her affectionately).
Child, you ask?

MARIA (advancing).

SCENE IV.

The studio. RIBERA and ANNICCA.

ANNICCA.
Has he come often?

RIBERA.
Nay, I caught the trick
Of his fair face in some half-dozen sittings.
His is a bold and shapely head — it pleased me.
I like the lad; the work upon his portrait
Was pastime — 't is already nigh complete.

ANNICCA.
And has Maria sat here while you worked?

RIBERA (sharply).
Why not? What would'st thou say? Speak, fret me not
With ticklish fears. Is she not by my side,